Sheltered
by Ridley C. James
Summary: When Mac and Jack are both injured on a mission, Mac and Bozer both come to realizations that there's a lot to the old saying that ignorance is bliss, and that although lies may offer a sort of refuge, the only safe haven any of them have is in the truth, and trusting one another.
1. Chapter 1

Sheltered

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: This is set just after the mid-season finale. It is my first multi-chapter fic in this universe though I only think it will take two chapters, three at the most. I wish you all a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! As we don't know the true story behind how Mac and Jack met and all the ins and outs of their first job together I have taken great creative liberty. It is also my first time writing a bigger scene with Bozer, so I hope I get it mostly right.

RCJ

Bozer hadn't even officially started his new position at Phoenix. He was still in the pre-processing procedures, whatever the heck that meant. Thornton said the holidays slowed the well-oiled machine. Jack said there was nothing well-oiled when bureaucracy was in the mix, but all Bozer knew was that he had never filled out so many forms and taken so many tests in all his life. Getting his credentials at Phoenix had to be comparable to Mac earning his degree at MIT.

So it wasn't like an interruption in the grueling paperwork was not unappreciated, but being summoned by Thornton and escorted in an unmarked black Sedan by the twin John Cena look-a-likes was not exactly the welcomed reprieve he was hoping for. Add in the fact they ended up at an Army hospital and neither of his escorts were talking about why they were there or what was with the big rush, and Bozer was ready to go back to his cubicle of doom. Riely was always a sight for sore eyes but on this particular day Bozer was overjoyed at the vision of her, even if she was looking a little disheveled when she met them in front of a huge wall of elevators in the lobby.

"Riley, what is going on?" He didn't give her time to answer. "Where are Mac and Jack?"

"The mission didn't go exactly as planned," Riley replied when they were safely on the elevator. The two hulks stayed behind to silently stand guard, of what, Bozer wasn't sure.

"From some of Jack's stories that isn't exactly uncommon." Jack had been all too happy to fill Bozer in on some of his and Mac's more incredulous adventures now that Bozer was no longer in the dark as to what actually took place at the 'think tank' he now knew as Phoenix. Mac had mostly grinned and shook his head at some of Jack's descriptions, but he hadn't flat out refuted his teammate's version, so Bozer took them as truth, if a little exaggerated in Jack-style. "I mean to hear him tell it, you guys barely make it out alive on a regular basis."

Riley paled at Bozer's words. Bozer felt his heart kick up a notch. "Everyone did make it out alive, right?"

Riley nodded, but Bozer didn't feel any better. "Where's Mac, Riley?"

"He's with the doctors and Thornton. They need you to talk some sense into him."

While Bozer was relieved that his best friend was well enough for Bozer to talk to, the fact he was with a group of doctors had Bozer's chest constricting, an unfamiliar panic trying to take hold. "Is he hurt?"

"He's been shot." Riley spoke as if that were an everyday occurrence and Bozer flashed back to the fateful night when Murdoc showed up at their home with a gun, hell-bent on killing Mac. A month ago, Bozer would have been shocked at the revelation, but now, it just seemed a part of his new normal.

"Is he alright?"

"He's good enough to argue with treatment." The elevator stopped at the top floor, the doors opening to reveal a long hallway that led to silver bay doors that also had a guard placed in front of them. "He needs surgery and refuses to go through with it."

"Surgery?" Bozer wanted to reach out and stop Riley, who had picked up her pace. He was having a hard time matching her stride and processing the information she was delivering. Mac needed surgery.

"The bullet is still in his leg." Riley stopped long enough at the doors to flash her ID.

The guard stared at Bozer.

"My magic pass key hasn't been delivered," Bozer said, realizing the guy wanted his ID.

"Thornton's expecting him," Riley gave in way of an explanation and they were waved through.

The unique antiseptic, medicinal smell hit Bozer full force and his stomach lurched. He instantly regretted the steak and cheese sub he'd consumed at lunch. He couldn't remember the last time he was in a hospital, let alone the ICU. Nurses scurried about, a tech rolling a computer nearly collided with them.

"I don't understand," Bozer finally gripped Riley's wrist, forcing her to hold up and look at him. "Why is Mac refusing treatment, and where the hell is Jack?"

Bozer had found through the years that he had little control over Mac once the man set his mind to something. He'd never wielded that kind of influence over his friend. If he had, Mac would have never joined up with the Army. Bozer had been proud of him of course, but he'd also thought he was making a huge mistake. In Mac-like fashion, he'd heard Bozer out and then did what he thought was right. The first time Bozer had witnessed Jack Dalton work his magic on Mac, Bozer had been speechless. Just as Riley seemed to be now.

"You know, the tall guy with the black tee fetish and a gift for ordering people around. I mean Jack can get Mac to do pretty much whatever he wants him to do. He even talked him out of going after Murdoc and let me tell you that was nothing short of miraculous."

"Jack can't talk to Mac." If Bozer wasn't mistaken, Riley's eyes had grown a lot brighter. There may have even been a hint of tears in her voice. Only Riley wasn't exactly the kind of girl who cried at the drop of a hat, maybe when she was pissed off, or really, really scared…

"Jack's in surgery," she said. "He took two to the chest."

"Damn." Bozer brought his hand to his mouth, glancing around at the busy corridor again. Jack's words from last week when they were being debriefed about China came flooding to Bozer's mind. "Stuff just got real up in here."

"What?" Riley demanded.

"Nothing." Bozer shook his head, but couldn't shake the reality of Jack's words. For all the fantasizing he'd done about the life of a secret agent, he hadn't thought of the potential downfalls, the consequences, the ugliness that could come along with all the danger. He blamed all the James Bond and Jason Borne movies he'd been re-watching. "Is he going to make it?"

Before Riley could answer, they were interrupted by raised voices and a crash that came from behind a door a few feet away. As soon as Bozer recognized Mac's voice he took off in the direction of the commotion, Riley right behind him.

If Bozer thought that Riley's little bomb dropping about Jack had shattered all illusions he held about the work Mac and Jack did, he was in for a harsh surprise. What struck Bozer the hardest was not finding Mac on the floor, tangled in an IV and scattered remnants of medical supplies, fending off Thornton and two women in scrubs, but the gory state Mac was in.

Blood soaked his shirt, so much blood, that Bozer was afraid Riley had lied about the bullet wound to the leg. Some of it even streaked his blond hair. There was a smear above the darkening bruise on his face, and when he looked up at Bozer, there was a hint of wild despair in his blue gaze that Bozer had only seen a few times. The night Mac's mom died, and the day his father left.

"Thank God you're here." Thornton's voice broke the moment of stunned silence. It wasn't her typical controlled, monotone, but one that at any other moment Bozer might have teased her about. It sounded almost maternal. "Please do something with him."

Bozer stepped forward, quite certain the trained medical personnel should be the ones doing something. He could see the patch of red on Mac's pants now, from just above his left knee, all the way to the cuff of his jeans. If' he'd had shoes on, the blood trail would have been on them too. As it was his socks were dotted. Mac was pale, a sheen of sweat on his brow. A coppery sweet scent washed over Bozer as he drew closer to his friend and he had to swallow hard to keep from gagging.

"Bozer."

The way Mac said his name, full of pain and desperation made Bozer's legs weak. Mac sounded like he did when he'd showed up on Bozer's doorstep the night after his mom was gone. Maybe it was because Mac was typically so unflappable that made the few times when he did let his emotions overtake him that much harder to witness for those who knew him best. Bozer was glad he had a reason to kneel on the floor.

"Mac, what's going on?"

Mac latched a hand onto Bozer's wrist. "Tell them I'm fine."

Bozer looked down at Mac's hand. His long pale fingers were hot to the touch, and there was blood underneath Mac's fingernails. Bozer swallowed again. "Man, you are so far from fine…You look worse than you did when I went through my slasher film phase and relied on you to play the victim every time."

"The blood isn't mine." Mac looked down at his shirt as if only realizing he still had it on. "It's Jack's."

Bozer was pretty certain his lunch was about to make a spectacular return. This was so far from the blood packs he used for special effects. He wanted to ask the doctor if a person could actually lose that much blood and still make it into surgery but instead he kept his gaze on Mac. "How about we get you back on the bed."

"I'm not going under." Mac shook his head. "Not until Jack's awake."

"Waiting to extricate the bullet is not advisable, Agent MacGyver."

Mac didn't even bother to look at the doctor who had spoken. He stared straight at Bozer and spoke in a matter of fact tone that was completely Mac. "Most bullet wounds are sterile due to the intense heat needed to discharge the projectile. My leg won't be septic for hours, maybe days depending on the debri that possibly entered with the bullet. Probing for a bullet at this point will only cause increased hemorrhaging."

"If we were talking battlefield surgery that may be true, young man, but considering the facility you are currently at and the skill of the attending surgeon there is no logical reasoning to wait and see if you develop a life-threatening infection. There could also be damage to the muscle or trauma to the bone. We are also contending with shock. It is not hospital procedure to wait these things out, merely because the patient desires to do so."

"Mac, you need to listen to her," Riley spoke up. She was hovering just behind Bozer. "Jack would freak out if he knew you were pulling this crap."

"Jack needs to see me," Mac continued on, talking to Bozer as if they were the only two people in the room. "He knew I was hit. He got hurt trying to circle back to cover me. We are always there when the other one comes to. If I'm not with him when he wakes up, he'll think the worst. Do you understand?"

"I get it, Mac," Bozer lied. He might have thought he understood what Mac and Jack did, what the ins and outs of their partnership entailed, but finding Mac covered in Jack's blood, sporting his own injury and refusing treatment, had skewed all that Bozer thought he knew about his two closest friend's working relationship.

Mac nodded, as if he believed Bozer. "He'll think he failed his mission. It'll kill him. He won't fight and we could lose him. I'm always there, Boze. Every time."

Bozer looked up to find all four women staring at him as if he was about to spout some magical wisdom that would convince Mac to do what they were asking. Instead he asked the first question that came to mind. "How long will Jack be in surgery?"

Thornton looked to the scowling woman in the white scrubs. The doctor shook her head. "I can't give you a definite time. I was not a consult on Agent Dalton's case. I imagine if the damage is as extensive as it appeared when he was first brought into the trauma bay with Agent MacGyver then it could be several hours."

"Then he'll be in recovery, right?" Bozer had watched enough movies to know people just didn't wake right up after a long and arduous operation. That's what bed-side vigils were for. "At least a few more hours."

"If Agent Dalton comes through the procedure, he'll most likely be unconscious for some time."

"He's coming through the procedure." The heat in Mac's words had all eyes once more focused on him. He leveled a glare on the doctor that put one of Thornton's cold stares to shame. "You have no idea about Jack Dalton."

Bozer was beginning to feel like he had no idea about either man, but this was not the time to voice his new anxieties. He put a hand on Mac's shoulder. "She may not know Jack, but I do. Riley's right, Man. He'd be pissed at you risking your health. Can you imagine the rant you'd have to listen to about him putting his neck on the line to save you, ruining his favorite black tee shirt in the process, only to have you refuse to let the doctors take care of you? It would not be pretty. If Jack was here right now he'd be putting your ass back on that gurney and rolling you into the surgery suite himself."

Mac looked ready to offer some kind of rebuttal but after a long moment, instead of addressing Bozer he looked at the doctor. "How long will it take to remove the bullet?"

"If there is no damage it will be a relatively quick and simple procedure."

"I want the lightest sedation possible, are we clear?"

"I'll speak to the anesthesiologist myself," Thornton replied before the doctor could. "I'll make sure they understand the situation."

Mac turned to Bozer again. "When Jack gets out of surgery, if I'm not awake, promise me you'll wait with him."

"You know it."Bozer nodded. "I'll tell him you're fine."

"No." Mac shook his head. "He'll think you're lying. If he wakes up before I'm out, tell him I said Guns and Roses sucks."

"Excuse me?" Bozer was beginning to worry that Mac might already have a fever from some kind of infection and was talking out of his head.

"It's a long story." Mac gave a decent imitation of his typical grin and for the first time since entering the hospital room Bozer felt a twinge of hope that things were going to be okay. "Jack will know what I mean."

Bozer flashed his own grin. "So it's some kind of secret code between agents?"

"Something like that," Mac replied.

"I can do that."

"Good," Mac suddenly looked like he was the one who might be sick. "Now could you get me off this floor, because I really don't feel so good?"

It took Bozer and the two medical staff to get Mac on his feet and settled once more on the hospital bed. Mac was pretty much out of it after they replaced the I.V., but he made Bozer promise to stay with Jack one more time and repeat back the phrase about Guns and Roses before giving into the pull of unconsciousness. Bozer must have looked a little panic-stricken when the orderlies rolled his friend out of the room because Thornton placed a hand on his shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze before leaving him and Riley alone.

"Are you okay?" Riley asked, looking almost as shaken as Bozer felt.

"I'm not the one about to go under the knife." Bozer turned so there were only a few feet separating them. "Or the one fighting for his life."

"They'll be fine."

Bozer knew Riley meant for the words to come out in her usual confident tone, but instead the words sounded more question than matter of fact. He realized that this wasn't just a first for him, but her as well. "I'm sure they've had worse and been fine."

"Mac almost died when Nikki pulled her disappearing act."

"But he didn't," Bozer countered. He thought back to that time. How Jack had called him, all broken up with the news about Nikki being killed in a car wreck. He had told Bozer there was nothing he could do, that he would go with Mac to handle the arrangements. They had been gone over a week, and when Mac did make it home, he was not himself. Bozer understood now that it wasn't just that he was emotionally wounded, he'd been physically hurt as well.

"No." Riley nodded. "He didn't."

"And Jack will pull through this time," Bozer added, making a huge effort to sound more assured than he felt. "Like Mac said, he'll do anything to fulfill his mission, watching out for Mac. If for no other reason, he'll make it back to us, just to make sure Mac made it through."

"That's Jack for you." Riley fidgeted, looking lost without her trusty computer in hand. "But what are we going to do? Wait? I don't do waiting, Bozer."

"That's good because we have a little mission of our own." Bozer reached out and took Riley's hand. "My grandmother would say the most important job of all."

Riley looked skeptical, holding her ground but not refusing the little tug that Bozer gave her. "And what might that be?"

"We're going to pray." Bozer led her towards the door. "Army hospital or not, this place has to have a chapel and I have a feeling we're going to need all the help he can get."

To be continued…

B


	2. Chapter 2

Sheltered

A/N: Thank you for all the very kind reviews. They are so appreciated. Again, I am using creative liberty about Mac and Jack's past. We know from cannon that Jack said they were in Afghanistan together at some point, but we don't have exact details, hence I am relying on feasible possibilities. Someone, I can't remember exactly who, had written that perhaps Mac was called onto one of Jack's missions as an EOD expert, and I loved that, so that's my story and I'm sticking with it.

RCJ

They had found the chapel easy enough. It was tucked in a dead end hallway, across from the cafeteria, empty but still welcoming with its deep cranberry carpet and gold pews, even if it did smell a bit like a burger joint. Bozer wasn't sure how much time had passed as he and Riley shared a cushioned bench at the front, staring at the stained glass image of The Messiah. Thornton had promised to send for him as soon as Jack was in recovery. He would keep his promise to Mac and stay with their friend until Mac could take over.

Bozer glanced at Riley. He'd imagined staring at her in candle light many times, but in his mind it took place during their first romantic dinner, the one he'd eventually talk her into now that he had all her digits. She'd be wearing something stunning, a dress along the lines of the one she had on the disastrous night Murdoc changed everything, and Bozer would be his most charming self. There would be some soft jazz playing in the background. Ridiculous food. Lots of laughter. The best wine. Flowers. Instead, they were sitting in silence, not sharing the beginning of a night Bozer hoped would be spectacular, but enduring one of the longest evenings he could remember. Still, she looked beautiful.

"How are you praying if you're staring at me?" Riley kept her voice to a whisper, reverent but still somehow packed with attitude.

Bozer forced a grin when she turned to lift one perfectly arched eyebrow. "Well, you are the most Heavenly body I've seen lately."

Riley didn't disappoint. She rolled her eyes, offering a shred of normalcy in the completely surreal situation. "Did you really just say that? We are in church. Sort of."

Bozer shrugged. "I find it important to always speak the truth, especially when the Big Guy is listening in."

Riley smirked. "When's the last time you went to church?"

If Bozer was honest he couldn't remember the exact date. "It was probably the last time I visited my Granny Ruth."

"In Atlanta?"

Bozer grinned, pleased that Riley remembered his favorite grandmother lived in Georgia. "Yeah. It was probably five years ago. Everyone goes to church when they visit Ruth. It's either that or face her wrath. She'd be upset if she knew I wasn't as faithful when out from under her watchful eye and free from the fear of being thrashed with her trusty wooden spoon."

"My mom and I used to go."

Bozer must have done a poor job of hiding his surprise because Riley punched his leg. "What? You think I'm a heathen?"

"No. You just have lots of layers."

"Like an onion?" Riley looked insulted.

"No," Bozer teased. "Like a perfect rose."

Riley turned her gaze back to the front of the chapel. "I used to pray for lots of things. Most of them never worked out."

"When I'd bring that up, Granny Ruth would say, 'Boy, Our Lord isn't some magic genie in a bottle. He does what's best for us and everybody else, not necessarily what we want."

Riley turned to face him again. "What if we don't get what we want this time, Bozer?"

"We just have to have faith that having our guys in this world is definitely the best for everyone." Bozer looked at the stained glass image, the sad scene of the crucifixion bringing back images of Mac covered in blood. He didn't want to think about Jack making the ultimate sacrifice.

"They're braver than I imagined," Riley turned on the pew, facing Bozer. She tucked one foot under her, her knee brushing against Bozer's leg. "When they first came to talk to me at the prison, wanting me to crack Nikki's rig, I just thought they were blowing smoke. That they were just like the government suits that helped lock me away. They've proved me wrong over these last few months."

"I know Mac's brave," Bozer replied. "I worried the whole time he was serving in Afghanistan. I was afraid he'd get himself killed, because I knew he wasn't afraid to do what needed to be done if he believed in the mission."

"That sounds about right." Riley's voice grew even quieter. "I probably shouldn't have, but when I cracked Nikki's computer, I read some of her files, notes she kept on missions. She was pretty meticulous. It's scary some of the things they've done, the jobs they shouldn't have survived."

"I'm beginning to think being in the dark wasn't such a bad thing." Bozer leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I can see now that Mac really was trying to protect me."

"I think they're wired for that," Riley said with a sigh. "I always knew Jack wanted to take care of me and my mom, that he was never really the bad guy I painted him to be."

Bozer turned his head so he could meet Riley's gaze again. "When Mac first started mentioning Jack in his letters and on the few occasions we got to talk on the phone, I thought he was like some kind of real life G.I. Joe."

"That's not far off, if G.I. Joe was from Texas, loved fantasy football and used more hair product than I do."

"Did I tell you the first time I met Jack was on Christmas? He and Mac got leave and Mac brought him home." Bozer leaned back against the cushioned pew. "I was afraid Jack would be some kind of hard as nails drill sergeant or maybe a hulled out Rambo who'd pull a Bowie knife out of his boot to carve up the Christmas Pastrami."

Riley grinned. "Has anyone ever told you that you may just watch too many movies?"

"As a rule, there is no such thing as too much cinema," Bozer grinned. "But I admit, my love of the big screen might have skewed my expectations. I mean, besides Mac, Jack was my first experience with a career soldier, and the fact he was Special Forces conjured all kinds of scenarios. And I will admit I was just a wee bit jealous of how star struck Mac seemed with him since being assigned to his team."

"Seriously?" Riley folded her arms over her chest, settling in as if the story was just now getting interesting.

"I know it's hard to imagine me being insecure…"

"I was surprised that Mac was ever fan boy over Jack."

Bozer ignored the jab, continuing on with his story. "I was always Mac's go to friend, basically his only friend, minus this dog he had for a while. There was Penny, but Penny was a girl. Apples and oranges. But Jack, he seemed to bring out this whole other side to Mac. I mean you've probably noticed but Mac doesn't exactly warm up to people that quickly. He's friendly enough, but getting to know the real Mac, that's no easy task. He doesn't let just anybody in, and if he does, he usually keeps his guard up."

"That's what made the thing with Nikki so bad," Riley said. "It's no wonder he had his doubts about me."

"It took me years to really get inside his head, to make it through to his heart, and then Jack shows up, and it's like the man instantly took up this huge space that I didn't even know was there. I mean I understand in theory that going to battle can bond two people, the whole brother in arms thing, I watched Saving Private Ryan and Braveheart, but seeing it first hand, that was entirely something else."

"Jack does know how to blow onto a scene and suck all the space in a room," Riley nodded, knowingly. "Apparently they make everything bigger in Texas, including egos."

"The man has swag, I'll give him that." Bozer chuckled. "Jack burst into our place that year like he'd always belonged there. He was like some big goofy Labrador puppy, looking at Mac like he'd finally found his long lost boy and wasn't about to leave his side."

"You couldn't resist him." Riley spoke as someone who, like Mac, didn't exactly let people get too close too fast, yet understood all too well the magic power that Jack Dalton could wield.

"He had me at his Bruce Willis collection." Bozer smiled thinking about staying up all night that Christmas Eve watching all the Die Hard movies. "That and the fact he appreciated my Pastrami for the genius that it is. All my food actually. He nearly ate us out of house and home. I guess the fact I could see how devoted he was to Mac, that he loved him as much as I did, had something to do with me becoming the founding member of the Jack Dalton fan club. I think I sent the man more care packages than I did Mac. He actually wrote letters back to me."

"Jack has his issues, but the man is loyal as the day is long." Riley held Bozer's gaze. "He would do anything for Mac, for us too, I have no doubt."

"Like take a few bullets." Bozer shook his head. "You know when Jack showed up on the scene and I realized he was in for the long haul, for the first time, I felt like I wasn't bearing the whole responsibility of watching out for Mac. I mean we might not have been in a war zone, but making it through middle school and high school with a guy who doesn't exactly understand social norms and has an IQ off the chart wasn't exactly a cake walk. Mac can be a handful."

"You make Mac sound like Forrest Gump."

Bozer laughed. "Maybe Forrest Gump meets Rain Man."

"Refer to my earlier note about your movie obsession but I could totally see Jack as Lieutenant Dan," Riley said. "Jack could probably easily see himself as Tom Cruise."

"I know it sounds crazy but it was kind of like being a single parent for years and then finally having this other person who loves your kid as much as you do, and who wants only the best for him."

"That doesn't sound crazy." Riley bumped his leg. "It sounds familiar."

Bozer nodded, knowing Riley would also get what else he was thinking. "But I also know that if something happens to Jack, I can't fill that gap. I can't make up for it."

"Some things can't be fixed with paper clips and Duct tape."

"Right. It was bad when Mac thought Nikki was dead, but Jack was there to help. He kept Mac from shutting down and slipping away to hide in that huge brain of his." Bozer took a deep breath, let it out slow. "This…this is a whole other level. If Jack doesn't make it, we might lose them both."

"That's not going to happen." Riley sat up straighter, determination settling in her gaze along with the reflection of the candle light. She let her hand rest over Bozer's, gave a slight squeeze. "Our team has too much good left to do. The Big Guy has to know that."

Bozer didn't say anything as they both turned their gazes back to the front of the chapel. He flipped his hand over lacing his fingers with hers. It wasn't quite how Bozer imagined the first time he'd hold her hand; that would have been in the midst of a midnight showing of a new blockbuster, but for now, this would have to do.

RcJ

Mac had not envisioned the mission ending like it had. As usual, the best of well-made plans was screwing with him. He'd gone out the back, instead of the front like he'd hoped. The armed guards had been unexpected, but not a complete surprise. A radio call to Riley could fix the location of their pick up easy enough.

Jack had researched the perimeter of the estate. They knew the ins and outs of the compound, exactly where the private office with its supposed top notch security was located. Infiltrating private estates owned by oil barrens wasn't their typical job but when said wealthy business man with supposed ties to the Russian mafia was also known to dabble in the affairs of senators and congressmen, Phoenix along with the CIA and FBI became interested. Phoenix had more wiggle room to take certain measures, so Mac and team had been assigned the task of retrieving a very incriminating flash drive.

Jack had said it would be a piece of cake, like taking candy from a baby. That should have been Mac's first foreshadowing that things were bound to go terribly wrong. Hadn't Jack predicted Cairo would be easy? Jack had a horrible habit of speaking things into being, often bringing about the opposite of what he was proclaiming.

So, it shouldn't have surprised Mac as much as it did when he hit the back door and started running for the new pick up point only to find himself face first on the ground instead. It had happened so fast. The bad things in life were never subtle or expected.

One minute he had the flash drive, yards away from his escape, confident in his ability to out run the guards behind him and certain Jack was somewhere up ahead of him, and the next a fiery agony tore through his upper leg. The fall stole his breath but didn't mask the shout of pain he couldn't contain.

The gunman who'd come from the pool house had been another surprise. Maybe the oilman was smarter and more prepared than they anticipated. Mac managed to lift his head just in time to see the man who shot him jerk back in surprise, only to drop like a felled buck as a bullet tore through his brain.

It was a perfect example of why the notes in Jack's file about his expert marksmanship were not exaggerations or flattery. As much as Mac hated the deadly potential that guns held, he appreciated their precise and clean kill range and his partner's skill. It made him a hypocrite, but the hurting in his leg and the fact he was bleeding all over the unnatural oasis the oilman had created on the outskirts of the Nevada desert kept Mac from feeling too guilty about it.

In fact, he almost wished he had a gun of his own as he heard pounding footsteps and realized one threat had been removed but two more were quickly gaining ground. He rolled over, grappling for anything he might use as a weapon. Mac's unexpected trip had cost him precious time. The guards were now out the door, almost on top of him. He tried to get up without success.

He heard Jack shout his name, and there was more gunfire. One of the guards dropped, but the other kept coming, firing as he did. So did Jack.

A bullet struck the ground beside Mac and he scrambled to his knees despite the protest of his injured leg just as his partner reached him. Jack returned fire even as he took hold of Mac. In that moment, Mac realized that even though bad things happened in a blur, a person's mind liked to play tricks, sometimes casting the event in horrific slow motion, like one of Bozer's editing techniques when he wanted the audience to experience every detail of a scene in heart wrenching clarity.

Jack wrapped one arm around Mac, pulling him to his feet with a strength born of equal parts adrenaline and desperation. He grunted. Mac felt him falter. Their eyes met for a brief instant, and Mac knew. Knew they were in trouble. Knew that Fate had dealt them a crushing blow. As Mac's grandfather was so fond of pointing out, even the most seasoned of gamblers could not beat the odds forever.

Jack raised his gun and put the other guard down. "Can you walk?"

"Jack?" Mac managed, knowing it wasn't an answer.

Jack shook his head. "Back up is on the way."

Mac hoped Jack meant reinforcements were waiting for them, but realized with sickening clarity as another bullet struck the ground that Jack was talking about more guards. It seemed the oilman had an army. Their Intel was obviously faulty. Jack got them turned, half running, half dragging Mac.

In reality Mac didn't know how long it took them to get to the hole they'd cut in the fence earlier at the beginning of the mission that was supposed to go smoothly. He knew he almost blacked out when Jack pushed him through the small opening, only to manage to make it through himself and pick Mac up off the ground again. In the current dream, the one Mac somehow subconsciously realized that he was in, he and Jack seemed to simply materialize in the back of the van.

Only the van was no longer the van. The high-tech vehicle had transformed. It now looked more like Mac's old bedroom, the one he'd grown up in at his grandfather's house. Mac was on the floor, he recognized the scarred, dark oak, the blue braided rug he used to keep over the secret two by four he could pull free and use as a hiding place for a boy's most treasured items. There were scattered pieces of Legos where there should have been advanced listening gear. Spy gadgets, as Jack liked to call them, were replaced by a pair of worn running shoes, a hockey mask and ice skates. Jack.

Mac looked up, panicked for a moment. Jack was still there, leaning over him. Grinning.

That had happened in real life too.

"You okay?"

It was a stupid question, but Mac nodded. "The leg's not so bad."

"I consider any of your blood spilled as unacceptable." Jack looked at his hands that were covered in the red stuff. He seemed puzzled for a moment, then looked down at his own chest, realizing he was the one losing all the blood. "Well, damn."

"Jack." Mac had shifted just in time to help ease his partner to the floor beside him. The pain in his leg was overshadowed by the frantic beating of his heart. "You're hit."

"You're nothing if not observant." Jack laughed as if he had cut himself shaving, instead of taken two rounds to the chest. He rubbed his hands on his jeans, but Mac could still see the smears of red. "Nothing a few bandages and some of your Duct tape won't fix, right, Brother?"

They both knew the injury was way beyond anything Mac could take care of with field triage. Blood soaked the front of Jack's shirt. Mac was covered in it too from where Jack had pulled him close as they had made their escape. It was on his face, in his hair. The sweet, coppery scent was overpowering.

Jack reached out and gripped Mac's wrist, his fingers slick and sticky. "Stay with me, partner."

In reality it had been Mac who'd said those words. By the time Jack had realized he'd been shot and how bad it was, his adrenaline rush had failed him and he'd practically fallen on top of Mac, struggling to catch his breath. Mac had managed to get out from beneath him and roll Jack onto his back. The older agent was fighting to stay conscious. How he'd managed to get them across the estate and into the van, Mac wasn't sure. Sheer Jack Dalton stubbornness he supposed. Mac had seen soldiers do similar things in battle. He'd once watched one of the men on Jack's team get his arm blown off by a landmine, get up and drag himself and another soldier the length of a football field to safety.

In the actual van this was the point where Mac had yelled at Riley to radio for a med flight to meet them at the rendezvous site as he scrambled for a first aid kit, anything to use to slow the bleeding and prevent shock. He'd been completely consumed and focused with saving Jack's life. But here in his room, he had no supplies and despite the fact Jack was still bleeding, there was no sense of urgency or disaster.

"I'm okay, kid. It's all going to be okay."

"You're dying you idiot. You've lost way too much blood, you're going into shock and I think your lung's collapsed." Mac had not said any of these things back in the van, although he'd thought them.

"You're a genius, Mac, but you're not a doctor."

"I've seen enough to know when something is very bad."

"I know you've seen a lot, been through a lot, but you know me, and I'm not going to run out on you."

"Sometimes people don't have a choice." Mac's dad had chosen to leave, but his mother had fought hard to stay. Just like Jack had fought in the van. Mac had pleaded with him to stay awake and Jack had tried. He'd attempted to continue their latest round of Last Word, a stupid game Jack had started back in Afghanistan, one they continued on every dangerous assignment.

"Appetite for Destruction," Jack said as soon as Mac thought the words.

Mac looked at his partner, frowning. "You realize I was like three when that album came out."

"Well, I was like three when The Band of Gypsys by Jimi Hendrix was released and I still think it's awesome."

"You should have gone with that one. You might have won." Mac hadn't had a chance to one up Jack in the van. Jack had passed out after his proclamation that Guns and Roses had the best album ever made. Mac had almost lost it when it took him too long to find Jack's pulse, when his breathing had become so shallow that it was hard to see the rise and fall of his chest.

"I still won," Jack countered, bumping Mac's shoulder as if he could sense what the younger man was thinking. "I always win."

"Just because you don't know when to quit."

"That's right." Jack met his gaze, held it. He let go of Mac's wrist. Until then, Mac hadn't even realized Jack was still holding onto him. But the sudden absence of the touch was almost painful. "When it comes to the mission, to you, to making sure you're alright, I don't know the meaning of the word quit."

Mac stared at the bloody outline Jack's hand had left on his skin. He took a breath, feeling a familiar panic start to set in. Mac lifted his gaze to search out Jack's face once more, to assure himself that his partner was still with him, but Jack was gone. Along with Mac's old room and ice skates and hockey stick. Mac was in the van once more, sitting among all the tools and tech of their trade. In front of him was a glaring red stain on the carpet where Jack had once been.

Mac awoke with a jolt. He bit his lip to keep from crying out as his injured leg jarred and the I.V. in his arm pulled tight.

Fighting to keep his breathing under control, Mac slowly opened his yes. The familiar fluorescent lighting and tiled ceiling above told of where he was. The cloying smell and annoying beeping from the monitors he was hooked to assured him he was awake. The pounding in his head and the slight nausea spoke to the fact he'd been under anesthesia. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together and realize he'd had surgery.

Mac turned his head, searching out the familiar face that he'd find next, the person that would explain everything and assure him he was alright. Mac blinked, finding only an empty chair instead.

His heart began to race. A monitor alerted the change as he tried to push himself up in bed. Jagged bits and pieces of memories flashed through his mind like sliced scenes from one of Bozer's films. Mac rubbed at his eyes, searched the room again. He was alone. Totally, and completely alone.

Mac did the only thing he could do, what everyone did when they were caught in the throes of a nightmare from which they could not wake up. He opened his mouth and screamed for help.

"Jack!"

To be continued…


	3. Chapter 3

Sheltered

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: Again, much gratitude to those who took the time to review. I appreciate each and every word. I hope this last chapter does not disappoint. There should only be one or two more to go.

RcJ

Mac wasn't sure if it was the erratic alarms from the machines monitoring his heart rate and other vitals or his screams that had set the flurry of activity into motion. But people came running into his room. Just not the one person who would have ended the current nightmare. Where the hell was Jack?

"Mr. MacGyver, you shouldn't try to get up." One of the nurses, put her hands on Mac. She was strong for her size, or Mac's strength had been sapped by whatever drugs they were giving him. Even as it infuriated him that he was being bested by a woman half his size, it struck him that she must be new to the job.

This was most likely an Army hospital, he was probably on a ward filled with injured soldiers returning from God forsaken places, their bodies mangled and minds ravaged from whatever fresh hell they had just escaped. It was not smart to touch them while they were not completely awake. While they were still caught up in that space of not-quite consciousness, where anyone, if they weren't familiar, could be the enemy, where honed instincts for survival often kicked in before rational thinking could take over. Someone should tell her to be more careful.

"Let him go."

The voice of reason came not from a seasoned staff member, but from Riley Davis. Mac could see her over the shoulder of the young nurse who surprisingly did just as the other woman ordered, releasing Mac immediately.

"Just give him some space," Riley said again. She moved so Mac could see her better. "Mac. It's okay. You're safe."

Mac felt some of his fear dissolve. He stopped his struggle to get out of the hospital bed, didn't resist when another older nurse checked the I.V. in his hand with a practiced rhythm before turning to a mobile computer monitor as if men woke up screaming on her floor everyday. Mac focused on Riley, or at least tried to. The room kept shifting in and out of focus. He hadn't felt quite so out of it since his time in El Noche's villa, when he'd been dosed with nitrogen. A familiar face brought some order to the confusion, a bit of calm to the chaos. If Riley was here, then they had made it home.

"I'm sorry," Riley said.

The words had Mac's heart kicking up again, the alarms sounding, panic threatened to seize hold once more. The inexperienced nurse scowled at Riley before moving to see to the beeping monitor. Mac's mind filtered through all the worst case scenarios for which Riley could be apologizing. Jack's glaring absence the most obvious, and the most terrifying. He needed her to tell him where Jack was, but although he was sure he'd been screaming for Jack earlier, he couldn't quite form the name now that he realized he was awake.

"I shouldn't have left you, but I just stepped out to get coffee." She held up the Styrofoam cup, gave a slight smile. "If you can call it that. I was afraid I was going to fall asleep on my watch. You just came out of surgery. They told me you would be asleep for another few hours."

That explained why Mac was having a hard time getting his mind to cooperate, why he couldn't quite find the words to articulate what he needed to know. He'd had surgery, all the more reason for Jack to be there.

Riley placed her coffee on the bedside table. She moved her hands to the rails of the bed, leaning over slightly but not touching Mac. "Are you with me, Mac? Did you hear what I said?"

Mac swallowed hard, bringing some moisture to his extremely dry mouth. It took a momentous effort but he managed his partner's name. "Jack?"

"Jack's in ICU." Riley looked over her shoulder, then to Mac once more. She bit her lip. Riley was scared, unsure of what she should do, and that realization more than her words brought everything back for Mac, memories forcing their way through his anesthesia-induced amnesia.

Riley's frown deepened. "He was in surgery before you went to the OR. Remember?"

Mac remembered that when he and Jack had made it back to the van Riley had taken in the situation, the blood staining their clothes, and all the color had drained from her face. For the first time since she'd joined the team, Mac saw fear race through her dark gaze. She had looked just as shaken and frightened as she did now, more afraid than Mac had ever seen her. Even on the night when she coached Mac about prison etiquette, when he caught a glimpse of the nightmare she must have gone through during those two years she spent in the super max, she had not seemed as frightened as she did when Jack did not immediately jump in the driver's seat, and start barking orders. Mac had yelled at her to move, to drive, to get them the hell out of there.

She'd done so like a seasoned pro, but now she appeared more like the rookie she was, one who had just experienced their first baptismal by fire. Mac most definitely remembered what that was like.

"How is he?" Along with this memories seemingly came the ability to form a sentence.

"He's holding his own."

Mac had not realized he'd closed his eyes, or they had closed on their own volition, while waiting on Riley's reply until it struck him that Thornton had been the one to answer his question. He forced his heavy lids open to find his boss now standing beside Riley, her face unusually grave.

Patricia tried for a smile and it was much more alarming than reassuring. Mac wasn't sure if the atypical grin was more disturbing or the fact Thornton was as disheveled as Riley. Her hair was down. She was not wearing a suit jacket. Thornton was rarely rumpled, and she almost never smiled. Both things had him pushing himself up in bed, fighting the sheets and the last of the drugs that had his body and mind betraying him with their sluggish response.

"What does that mean?" He demanded.

Thornton smoothed a hand over the front of her wrinkled silk blouse with no success. "It means he made it through surgery, proving you right and every one of the doctors who worked on him wrong."

"I want to see him." Thornton's more typical gloating smirk at what she perceived as her agent's 'win' over the mere medical gods assuaged some of Mac's nerves, but he wouldn't be completely at ease until he saw his partner with his own two eyes.

"Bozer's with him, Mac," Riley assured. This time she did touch his arm, her fingers cool against his skin. "He's been there since Jack was brought from recovery."

Mac knew Bozer would not let him down. Bozer was one of the few people Mac trusted completely. But it didn't change the fact watching Jack's back was Mac's job. Jack often thought that protecting everyone, especially Mac, was his thing, his priority. But Mac would be the first to counter that although he appreciated the sentiment more than he could ever express in words, that certain mission fell just as equally on his shoulders as well. Partners took care of one another.

Mac took a breath, steeling himself and feeling his head clear a little more. "I need to sit with him, to be there when he wakes up, Thornton. That was our deal."

"The doctor will be in shortly to check on him," the nurse who had not attempted to hold Mac down told Thornton. "He can't be up and around until then."

"The hell I can't." Mac shoved the blanket aside, wincing when he saw the amount of bandaging on his leg. He'd almost forgotten why he'd needed surgery in the first place. The stark white gauze brought back a memory of the moment he was shot, the intense pain that had caused him to see stars, and the way his breath had been stolen as he found himself suddenly on the ground. What was worse was the wave of guilt that accompanied the flashback. He'd been the reason Jack was hurt.

"If you tear your stitches and end up losing more blood, you'll be of no help to your friend." The nurse's voice anchored Mac once more in the present. She continued to prattle on, "It's unlikely you'll even be able to make it out of bed on your own."

Mac swallowed a particularly brutal surge of nausea and glared at her. "Watch me."

This nurse wasn't as inexperienced or naïve as the other. She folded her arms over her ample chest. "If you refuse to follow treatment, I can't stop you. I can however keep you from seeing Agent Dalton."

"No you can't." Mac knew he probably sounded a bit like the kid others often mistook him for, but he wasn't feeling exactly gracious or logical at the moment. No one would tell him he couldn't see Jack. He'd bullied his way onto the same chopper during their evacuation. He'd stayed with his partner in the ER until Jack had been rushed into surgery. "I'm listed as his next of kin. I have his power of attorney."

"Which may give you control of Agent Dalton's treatment options, but none of which gives you any kind of authority over my hospital or my staff, Agent." The woman held her ground, and Mac had a feeling she'd probably seen combat. She had a meanness that reminded him of some of the medics he'd dealt with on the front line. "And don't turn those beguiling baby blues on Director Thornton because she doesn't have any power here either, unless she plans on strong-arming the Chief of Staff or calling in another favor from the governor."

Mac realized the woman, veteran or not, had either dealt with them before or had been informed of their reputations. He was about to tell her exactly what she could do with her hospital when Thornton placed a hand on his shoulder.

She kept her gaze leveled on the nurse as she, much to Mac's amazement, pulled the blankets Mac had shoved away buck up and tucked them around him. "If Agent MacGyver complies, perhaps you could ask the doctor to come sooner rather than later. We would appreciate any help you could give us to expedite the matter. As you can see, he's very upset, and nothing will do until he sees Agent Dalton for himself. Your cooperation will not go unnoticed by our agency or the Administration of your fine hospital."

"I'll see what I can do." The nurse strode out of the room, the younger nurse tagging behind after giving Mac a somewhat remorseful glance.

Thornton waited until they were gone before offering a gentle squeeze to Mac's arm. When Mac looked up at her she managed another strained smile. "I thought Jack taught you that honey brings more flies than gasoline."

Mac frowned at the odd twist on the euphemism and the weird maternal vibe. Jack could be charming as hell when he wanted to be, when he needed to be, but Mac had never been one for using charisma and allure as strategic tactics. Mac wasn't convinced he even had the appeal to pull it off although Nikki had told him time and again that his attraction could be as beneficial on the job as his intellect. He now realized she was speaking as a master of the art, and not just his biased girlfriend. Mac was pretty sure Thornton had given her former protégé a pointer or two. Mac would stick with what he knew best.

"I'll find my own way in if she doesn't bring the doctor back with her." Surely he'd get his hands on whatever he needed in a hospital to cause one hell of a distraction.

Thornton sighed, stepping away from the bed. "Can't we ever just do things the easy way?"

Mac felt a twinge of sympathy for her, something he'd found didn't' happen as easily since Nikki had planted the tiniest of doubts in his head about their Director. "How about if I promise not to cause too much damage?"

Patricia leveled a cold 'who do you think you're talking to' glower in his direction. It was more her, and much more comforting than her earlier attempts at being nurturing. "Like I haven't heard that line before. You have no idea what it's like for me when I have to explain budgetary anomalies mostly caused by one of your and Jack's improvisations."

"I could create a less destructive diversion," Riley offered, her eyes going to the rolling computer the nurses had abandoned. She flexed her fingers. "We won't even have to track down some paper clips for Mac. It would be so easy to hack their system, fake some orders."

"How about we exercise those options if the simplest route of diplomacy doesn't work out." Thornton gave Mac another hard stare as if he had somehow encouraged Riley. Riley didn't need encouragement. Mac had noticed she got twitchy if she went too long without her hands on a keyboard. "No need to commit unwarranted felonies."

"I'll give them twenty minutes." Mac hoped his tone conveyed that he wouldn't wait one minute longer before utilizing whatever means necessary. They broke the rules every day for everyone else. Family should always be the first ones a person was willing to cross the lines for.

"Deal," Thornton ran hands over her shirt once more trying to erase the wrinkles. Riley was not the only one who got antsy when they were out of their element, unable to exert some sort of control.

Mac looked at Riley. "Will you let Bozer know I'm awake and I'll be down to relieve him soon? Maybe take him some of that not so great coffee on me."

"I'll do one better. I think they have some of the herbal tea crap he likes." Riley grabbed her bag and started for the door. She turned, glancing back at Mac. "Jack's going to be fine, you know. I have it on good authority that he's still got a lot of good left to do."

Mac wanted to believe Riley. He believed Jack had a lot of good left to do as well, but mostly his motives were selfish. Mac needed Jack to be alright, because without him, Mac wasn't quite sure what he'd do. Once they were alone, he turned his beguiling blue gaze, as the nurse had called it, on his boss. He doubted his look was anywhere near attractive, as far from as alluring as possible, as he was going for full on angry.

"First tell me how Jack really is, and then try explaining why the hell our intelligence was so off the mark."

Thornton didn't look surprised by Mac's demands, or offended at his gruffness. If anything she appeared relieved to be shedding the kid gloves completely, always one to prefer candor over being careful of people's feelings. Although Mac appreciated she'd made an effort for Riley's sake, or maybe even for his.

"Jack is not good. He lost a lot of blood. He coded in surgery but they managed to get him back. You were right about his lung. The right one was punctured. It collapsed. They have him heavily sedated and on a ventilator to aid with his breathing." She gave a small sigh. "On a good note they believe they took care of all the bleeders and were able to retrieve the bullet fragments. They tell me the next twenty-four hours are crucial and if Jack makes it through that they give him a decent chance for a complete, albeit miraculous recovery."

"This shouldn't have happened." Mac had grown colder with each word of Thornton's more detailed report on Jack's condition. By the time she'd finished, he felt almost anesthetized again, although this time his condition had nothing to do with medication.

"This kind of thing goes with the territory, Mac. You're not a rookie like Riley. You've been an agent long enough to understand people get hurt. People die for the greater good."

"I've been an agent long enough to know that any mission is only as good as its intelligence, the information we rely on to minimize the risk as much as possible. We went into this job thinking that oilman we were targeting was some second rate embezzler at best, possibly a traitor at worst, but we were assured he only had the kind of security any paranoid wealthy man might utilize. Instead he had hired gunmen, and not your run of the mill 'rent a gun' either. These were military grade. They had assault rifles. It was worse than breaching that drug lord's villa a few months ago, but at least then Jack had a trained tactical team."

"It turns out that our oilman is more connected than we thought." Thornton ran a hand over her hair, tucking the errant strands behind her ear. She had the decency to sound apologetic. "We've been unable to find him since cracking the encryption on the flash drive you retrieved."

"It's almost like he was expecting us." Mac couldn't help but to think back about Nikki's warning. He didn't want to doubt Thornton, or anyone higher up in Phoenix, but he found it harder to trust people these days, minus his two best friends, one of which was currently hooked to a machine that was doing his breathing for him.

"If some of the names we found are any indication, his connections are unexpected."

"Meaning he's involved in more than just some palm greasing with a few select senators and congressmen."

Thornton tilted her head. "Meaning it's need to know level security, and I'm not at liberty to say. I promise it has nothing to do with the lack of correct information on this job. That, I'm afraid, was just poor luck."

"Jack could die." Mac felt a twinge from the I.V. as he clenched his fists to keep a check on his temper.

"But he won't." In another uncharacteristic move, but one that did not seem as forced, Thornton reached out and covered Mac's free hand with her own. "He'll come back for you, MacGyver, just like he always does. We both know that."

Mac didn't think Thornton meant it as a jab, at least he wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, but her carefully chosen words didn't bring as much reassurance as they did another knife-like sensation of guilt. Jack had come back for Mac and it had nearly cost him his life. It might still. When Mac looked up at his boss, her dark, almost black eyes were just as unreadable as ever. They glittered fiercely in the fluorescent light, but whether from compassion or her own anger, Mac couldn't decide.

"Whoever was behind us not being prepared for this mission better sure as hell hope he does," Mac didn't blink. "Because if for some reason Jack doesn't make it back this time, I will hunt them down and make them pay. All of them. No matter who they are, or how high up their clearance."

"How about I go see what's keeping that doctor?" Patricia squeezed his hand again, giving a slight nod. "I don't want to end up creatively budgeting to give this hospital a new wing, now do I."

As he watched their director walk away, their friend, Mac hoped and prayed that lying to him was the only thing Patricia Thornton was guilty of.

To be continued…


	4. Chapter 4

Sheltered

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: Please see that earlier note about me taking great creative liberty on the boys past. Many thanks to TinkerBella7 for allowing me to reference an idea from her lovely story, Life Goes On. Again, thank you for all the more than kind reviews. I hope you continue to enjoy the story.

RcJ

Mac wasn't sure why the sight of Jack so still in the hospital bed struck him so hard. It wasn't like Jack hadn't been hurt before. Mac had suffered the same. Jack liked to say their line of work demanded a pint of blood and pound of flesh regularly just to keep them on their toes. Between them, there had been knife wounds, head wounds, gunshot wounds and errant bomb blasts. Snipers, overturned vehicle transports and even a poisoned dart, which Mac still had nightmares about. Then there was Cairo.

Still.

There was something about the starkness of the ICU room, the amount of machines, in particular the sound of the ventilator as it breathed for his partner. It was all overwhelming, and had Mac hesitating, his hand acting as a brake on the wheel of the chair that the orderly had used to bring him to the wing. Mac had told Riley and Thornton to get some food, to catch some sleep, opting for an escort from hospital staff. He was glad they weren't there to witness his moment of cowardice.

"Do you want to go in or not, Sir?"

The guy pushing Mac had paused just inside the door. His quiet question brought Bozer's gaze from the book he was reading to meet Mac's. Surprise registered on his roommate's face, followed quickly by unveiled concern.

"Mac?" Bozer stood, not giving Mac the chance to do what he really wanted to do which in that desperate moment was to ashamedly tell the orderly to turn the wheel chair around and get him the hell out of there. Hadn't he just spent the last hour arguing with hospital staff all the reasons he needed to be by Jack's side.

"Mac? Did you hear what I said?"

Mac fought against an instinct to try and get up himself. To run. It was the most natural thing for him to do, to push his body past its exhaustion point, to wear away the overwhelming fear of losing another person by pounding the pavement and punishing well-trained muscles. He didn't know how many miles he'd logged after Nikki's alleged death. There wouldn't be distance enough for Mac if Jack died. Logically, Mac knew that his leg would never hold him, let alone allow him the freedom of a good hard run, but still his mind fought wildly to seek a way out of the threatening situation he found himself in.

Bozer started to move around Jack's bed, to come closer to Mac, but Mac waved him off, managing a nod. "I'm okay. I'm fine."

The orderly took Mac's assurances to Bozer as a green flag to go. He rolled Mac in, right up to Jack's bed, checking the position of Mac's mobile I.V. before locking the wheel chair in place and making a hasty retreat.

"Mac?" Bozer said again. He remained standing on the other side of Jack, looking as unsure as Mac had ever seen him. The book was still in his hand. Mac could see that it was one of the many training manuals from Phoenix.

"Bozer, I'm okay." Mac cleared his throat, shot his friend what he hoped was a reassuring glance before looking to one of the machines monitoring Jack. It was emitting a steady beep, nothing as horrible as the sound of the ventilator which Mac refused to look at. "How's he doing? Has the doctor been in?"

"None that wanted to talk to me." Bozer shook his head. "Lots of nurses in and out. They keep saying Jack's holding his own, whatever that means. He's still listed as critical, but they tell me that could change in the morning when they try and take him off the ventilator. What about you? How's the leg?"

"The doctor said I was lucky. I'll need some rehab but everything should heal as good as new." Mac looked down at the appendage in question. The nurse with the bad attitude had used a pillow to elevate it as best she could, glowering her disapproval the entire time. But she had tucked a blanket around Mac, fussing over the thin t-shirt and running shorts he'd insisted on over the typical hospital gown.

"So no bionic implants needed?" Bozer was smiling when Mac looked up at him this time. "I keep waiting for you guys to toss another surprise at me, like you two have been Steve Austin-fied, and are now Six Million Dollar Men, although with inflation that would probably be something like Six Billion Dollars these days."

Mac shook his head, realizing his roommate was talking about the old television show with Lee Majors. "We're all human, Boze."

Mac couldn't help but to look once more at the machines keeping his partner alive, then for the first time focused on Jack. Mac's chest tightened and he fought hard to keep his breath nice and steady. "Completely human, I'm afraid."

"I can't say I wouldn't mind a little science fiction assurance considering Riley says you guys seem to end up in situations like this a lot." Bozer moved closer to Jack's bed, fidgeted with the top blanket. "Maybe I can come up with something in the lab once I get my official status."

"Like an Iron Man suit?" Mac raised a brow.

"Now we're talking." The suggestion had done what Mac hoped and erased the worried look on his friend's face, replaced it with one of excitement. "My man, Jack, would love that."

"You're not wrong." Mac nodded, turning his gaze back to the man in question. Jack would totally embrace the idea of his own action hero get-up. Mac reached out and gripped his partner's hand, a wash of memory hitting him full force. The first time Jack had saved Mac's life, Mac had thought him a real life super hero. Mac had been about to plummet from a building. Mac had panicked, let fear get the best of him. Jack's firm grip and resolve was the only thing that had saved him. Mac could do nothing but offer the same now, praying that his grasp might keep Jack from slipping away.

"Although, he's more Team Captain America," Bozer was saying. "Jack would totally be The Winter Soldier to your golden boy Steve Rogers. All badass martial arts and expert assassin. It could be our thing next Halloween. I could go as Falcon and Riley, Riley, my girl could go as The Black Widow."

Mac looked up at the last part. "You really think you're going to get Riley Davis to wear a skin tight jumpsuit? Thornton had to practically threaten her with a return to prison to get her into a dress."

Bozer put a hand to his mouth as if the mere possibility of it was rapture. Then he shook his head. "It's probably just as well, I couldn't handle all that leather. I mean, I never thought I could be attracted to Morgan Freeman, but the girl had me questioning my manhood for a moment."

Mac shrugged. "Maybe she'd be the Scarlet Witch."

"She has definitely cast a spell on me." Bozer's grin faded slightly as he met Mac's solemn gaze. "But I'm just glad we're all on the same team in real life. I hope you know I wouldn't go back, to the way things were before Murdoc. I mean it's not exactly what I expected, but it's good to know where I stand, and who stands with me."

"I know exactly what you mean." Mac believed that for all the bad that came along with the job, the perks of having a group of people you could count on completely and wholly, was worth whatever the risk. Holding on to people, even if sometimes admittedly Mac's first instinct was to keep them at a distance, was always the right move in the long run. "Thank you for staying with Jack while I was out, for having his back when I couldn't."

"No problem, Mac. Jack's family. I'm just glad you're alright." Bozer slowly took his seat once more. He put the book on a small rolling table next to his chair. "Because there for a minute I thought you might try to roll that chair right on out of here, or maybe hurl all over the floor and you know I can't handle the vomit thing. Remember the first and only time we watched The Exorcist?"

"Oh it's not something I will easily forget." A smile tugged at MacGyver's mouth and he felt the panic he'd felt earlier start to give way. He tightened his grip on Jack's hand and relaxed a little in the chair. "You ruined my favorite hiking boots if I recall."

"You should have known better than to let me rent it." Bozer flashed a more confident grin. "After that whole incident at Disneyland."

Mac grimaced, his stomach not as steady as he would have liked. "Can we maybe talk about something else?"

"Well, before you came in I was just telling our boy Jack about how boring all these books are that Thornton has given me to read. I might as well be back in college. Jack's not said it, but I'm pretty sure he agrees that they're a useless bunch of nonsense."

Mac kept his eyes on Jack's slack face, hoping for any indication that he might be close to waking, now that Mac was there. Maybe it was childish but Mac hoped that he could somehow reach across the void and pull his partner back to safety as Jack had done for him all those years ago in Berlin. If nothing else he hoped Jack wouldn't miss the opportunity to tease him mercilessly for holding his hand like some girl. Jack's features remained unchanged, but he sensed another set of eyes watching him. He glanced to Bozer, who was staring at him with a worried frown.

Mac cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I said, Jack's going to back me up on the ridiculousness of all this excessive paperwork. There should not be a thirty page memo on dress code."

"I wouldn't get your hopes up, Boze." Mac forced another half-hearted grin. "Jack has a collection of manuals from every gadget, gun and car he has ever owned, not to mention every bird he's ever flown and some he's never touched the controls on."

"Seriously?"

Mac glanced to Jack. "The first week I worked with him, he made me read the operations manual for a Sikorsky CH-37 Mohave."

"A what?"

"An assault transport helicopter the Army hasn't used since 1969." Mac shook his head at the ridiculous order. He'd balked, then did it anyway. "But if they ever do reinstate them, I know how to fix their freaking fuel pump."

"Damn," Bozer sighed. "I was hoping for some moral support when I went to ask Thornton if there was a movie version of all this literature, or at least some Cliff Notes I could snag."

"Jack might volunteer to go with you just to see Patricia's reaction." Mac knew for a fact his partner was getting a kick out of watching Bozer jump through Phoenix's famous hoops. They might have been considered highly sought after recruits by the foundation, but that didn't' mean they both hadn't paid their dues as well. "He'll get a kick out of trying to use his charm to rescue you from her wrath."

"Then I'll wait until he's up and around to bring it to Thornton's attention." Bozer grinned again. "It'll be my welcome home present since the whole super hero suit could take a while, although that man needs to realize that even an eternal optimist like myself realizes a woman like Thornton is impervious to charm."

Mac's face must have changed at the mention of Jack's recovery, because Bozer's voice dropped a notch, losing its joking tone.

"You know that's happening, right, Mac?"

"What?" Mac asked, having only been half listening again. "Thornton succumbing to Jack's charm? Not likely."

"No, man. Jack's coming home. He'll be back to himself in no time."

Mac ran his free hand over his face, wincing when the motion tugged at his I.V. "That's what everyone keeps telling me."

"That's because it's true." Bozer waited until Mac looked at him. "Jack always has your back. There's no way he's going to let you go into the field without him. You're his priority mission, right?"

"For the last five years, I guess so." Sometimes it drove Mac crazy, but honestly the thought of not having Jack watching over his shoulder scared the hell out of him.

"You know, you never did tell me exactly how that happened. I'm guessing it was classified but now that I'm practically a full-fledged spy, I think you can let me in on the details." Bozer leaned back in his seat, gestured to the book beside him. "It's got to be more interesting than me giving you all a monologue of this stuff. It's not exactly written for the stage, or even for the bathroom if you really want to know."

"Or you could just read quietly to yourself," Mac suggested, knowing Bozer would never go for it.

"And let you wallow in peace? Jack would never forgive me." Bozer looked to the unconscious patient as if Jack would suddenly back him up. "We both know how you get when you're brooding."

"I don't brood, or wallow." Mac caught himself throwing an accusing glare to his unconscious partner, even though Jack hadn't spoken a word. He had a feeling his moods might be a regular topic between Jack and Bozer.

"Oh, yes, yes you do." Bozer's stance said he wasn't going to budge on the point or on the request for his story. "I'd also like to hear more on why you wanted me to tell Jack that Guns and Roses sucked? Because you loved that band. I may even have a picture of you with your Axl Rose-imitation hair in a concert shirt you picked up at Good Will?"

Mac rolled his eyes at the implied threat. "I will only tell you if you promise Jack never sees said photograph."

Bozer folded his arms over his chest. "That depends on how good the story is."

"Fine." Mac returned his gaze to Jack, trying to remember every detail of their first meeting. Just like the first time Jack had saved his life, it was a moment, permanently etched in Mac's mind. He glanced at Bozer, resigned to his fate. "Scientists have actually studied the impact of people's first impressions, you know."

"You don't say," Bozer replied.

Mac nodded. "They point out the initial four minutes of interaction as the back drop for entire relationships."

"So when I gave you my pudding cup in second grade that left a lasting impression?"

"The unexpected generosity did make me look over the fact how odd you were, yes."

"I was odd?" Bozer snorted. "You carried dead bugs and a magnifying glass in your lunch box until middle school."

Mac ignored the exaggeration and continued on. "They even have a term for it. The Halo Effect. The premise works well for con-men, car salesmen and women with looks and skills like Nikki."

Bozer scratched his chin, thoughtfully. "She did have you wrapped from the get go."

Mac narrowed his eyes at Bozer, not needing any reminders of just how quickly he'd bought everything Nikki had been selling. "One word for you, Dude. Riley."

"I am a man who believes in love at first sight." Bozer held up his hands. "I'm not being a hypocrite. I'm just making sure I understand the premise."

"As I was saying, The Halo Effect works well for people well equipped for performance, but for guys like Jack, however, who have little interest in pulling the wool over anyone's eyes or rarely even bother to put their best foot forward, the opportunity to cast themselves in a good light, can go really wrong, really quickly."

"So you hated Jack from the get go?" Bozer leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, like he always did when a good part in a movie was coming up. "I knew it."

"Hate might be a strong word." Mac grinned despite himself. "Let's just say, I was more than a little unsure of how to take Jack Dalton."

To be continued…


	5. Chapter 5

RcJ

Afghanistan 2011

 _Angus MacGyver had learned early on in his short military career that going with the flow and not asking too many questions was the preferable and less troublesome route. It was however, not an easy path for him to follow. In fact, it was near on impossible for Mac, who instinctively questioned most everything. Curiosity was his nature. It was how his unique mind functioned. It was how his professors at MIT had taught their students to think. It was how Mac's training officer, Pena had instructed him to work when it came to explosive ordnance. Always questioning kept a guy sharp, alive. Until it didn't. Pena's death a few months before had driven that painful lesson home for Mac. It had also taken most of the shine from Mac's somewhat romanticized version of Army life. Some days felt more like he was merely going through the motions rather than having the kind of global impact he had hoped._

 _So when the commanding officer of his unit, a First Lieutenant named Haney, had pulled Mac aside and informed him he'd been hand chosen for a special mission and would be temporarily reassigned to a new team, Mac bit back on his inquiries to the specifics. The idea of having some kind of distraction, a different type of problem to dismantle appealed to him on several levels and overrode his innate desire to know the exact ins and outs. A change of scenery would be good. Mac even held his tongue when the guy who showed up for his escort was not in regulation army combat uniform, but in khakis and a Multicam print shirt and matching baseball hat._

 _He spoke only a few words to Mac, other than asking him if he was sure he was the EOD specialist he was supposed to pick up, after checking the papers Mac had given him not twice but three times. They had traveled to a badly bombed building that Mac surmised might have been a school at one time, at least until shelling had taken off half the roof. The only signs it was in fact now in use, some sort of base camp, was the presence of several light armored vehicles parked close by as well as a COUGAR, which supported a three-man crew and was generally used for reconnaissance and combat support._

 _Mac's mind raced with possible scenarios of who he could be working with, one of which was fueled by the rumors he'd heard that the 1_ _st_ _Special Forces Operational Detachment Delta had a team nearby. Delta Force was known for its hostage rescue and reconnaissance against high value targets. They were in the business of stopping terrorism. If the intelligence coming through the pipeline about several unnamed diplomats being taken from the city of Kandahar in a ploy to have leverage against The United States was to be believed, Mac's proposed theory would make sense._

 _He'd never directly dealt with an 'operator' as they were called, professional soldiers who didn't always hold allegiance to any specific branch but worked for whomever needed them, sometimes it was the FBI, sometimes the CIA, but as Mac waited with his escort in the shelled out front space_ _of the old school house, he had a gut feeling he was about to have his first chance at observing the mysterious workings of one of the unofficial teams up close._

" _What the hell is this?"_

 _Two men entered from another room, interrupting Mac's train of thought. Both were tall, older than Mac, one at least in his late thirties, the other was maybe heading into his fifties, dark-skinned, and heavier. It was his booming voice that had filled the room._

 _Mac stood up taller, tamping down his ingrained instinct to come to attention. The man was most definitely in charge and gave Pena a run for his money in the hard-nosed, tough as nails, commanding officer department. He pulled he camouflaged bandanna from his bald head and wiped it across his face as he raked his cool gaze over Mac before turning blazing eyes on Mac's unlucky escort._

" _I thought you were going to pick up the EOD I requested. This kid looks like he's fresh from his high school ROTC program"_

" _He came with a portable X-ray system and a bomb suit," the guy offered, and Mac felt a twinge of annoyance that he was sounding more like some kind of wind-up toy with attachments instead of an actual person._

" _That's all good and well, McCoy, but neither of those things means this wet behind the ears kid knows a Pigstick or a Zeus from a fucking hole in the ground."_

 _Mac in fact new both of the instruments used for bomb destruction in question but decided he still hadn't been officially included in the conversation._

" _This is your EOD, Major Hammond, Sir," McCoy continued, offering the man Mac's paperwork. "One A. MacGyver, as promised to Captain Dalton, by Lieutenant Haney."_

" _A what?" Hammond took the file, looking over the first few pages._

" _A. MacGver." McCoy said again, gesturing to the other man that had come in with Hammond, the one who'd remained just as quiet as Mac. "Talk to Jack. I had nothing to do with the selection of the EOD, just the pick- up and delivery. I checked the paper work twice. It all seemed in order."_

" _Well shit," Hammond growled. He turned to the taller man, Dalton, who'd apparently been the one behind Mac's sudden reassignment, and pointed an accusing finger. "Did you not send the good stuff to that twit Haney, like I told you, Jack?"_

" _I sent the best hooch we had, Ham." Dalton finally spoke and Mac automatically picked up on the accent. He'd served with men from Tennessee and Texas and would peg the Captain as hailing from one of the states, or maybe South Carolina. "I even sent the last of the good chocolate we picked up in Brussels last month."_

" _For all the good it did," Hammond blustered. "This extraction cannot go wrong, Jack."_

 _Jack looked at Mac, frowning as if it were all his fault he was getting chewed out by the Major. "Haney swore he'd send us the best EOD they had, some kind of freaking genius prodigy. He said MacGyver had disarmed or destroyed over fifty devices this past month alone."_

" _Well that's what we get for dealing with the fucking Army."_

 _Mac had almost reached his tolerance level in being referred to as a piece of equipment, the fact he'd basically been swapped for some hard to get rations, setting his temper to boil. He'd just decided to say as much when Hammond suddenly stepped into his personal space, his black gaze drilling straight into Mac's light blue one._

" _What's the A stand for, Kid? I mean besides awfully young, awkward as hell and ass ugly?" The Major demanded, gruffly._

 _Mac winced internally, but kept his face completely impassive. He'd learned the hard way never to deliver that answer with one bit of trepidation. Hammond wasn't the first to point out Mac's age or poke fun at his appearance. After all he hadn't been burdened with the nickname Kid Hollywood by his drill sergeant just because of where he had grown up._

 _Mac had a feeling showing any hint of weakness in front of the 'special missions unit' as he'd been instructed by his CO to call them would be far worse than any reaction on his part had been in boot camp._

" _Angus," he replied, and just because he knew Dalton and McCoy was watching him he added, "And I can assure you, Major Hammond, I know the difference between a projected water disruptor used for limpet mines and a laser ordnance neutralization system utilized for surface land mines and unexploded ordnance."_

" _Angus?" Hammond laughed, either disregarding everything else Mac said or choosing not to comment on it. "And here I thought Perseus was a damn burden."_

 _Mac wasn't exactly sure how to respond and was fairly certain Hammond wasn't waiting for a reply so this time he stayed quiet._

" _Well, I guess that settles it." Hammond turned to Dalton. "Jack, the kid's with you."_

" _What?" Dalton stepped forward. "Why the hell for?"_

" _For one, because you're from Texas, and an Angus suits you." Hammond folded his arms over his chest, pleased that he'd made some kind of joke that Mac, nor it seemed Captain Dalton was amused by. "Second, he's obviously a smart ass that's going to end up being more trouble than he's worth, no matter how many explosives he disarms. Smart ass is your middle name, Jack. And he's Army, just like you were. You two can bond over the fact neither of you sad sacks could cut it as a Marine."_

 _The man who'd escorted Mac laughed, but quickly covered it with a cough when Dalton shot him a glower. Delta Force might have technically been commissioned through the Army but Mac knew they recruited from all the branches. Their operators rarely wore uniforms, or any markings of their rank or affiliation, preferring civilian attire to promote anonymity and increase safety. If Mac had to guess he'd say Dalton, although painfully outranked by Hammond, but had some stripes and bars over the younger man, probably second in command._

" _Those are shitty reasons to stick me with babysitting, Sir," Jack growled. "I was just doing what you told me to do. Get me an EOD, Jack, you said. As if I could pull one from my fucking pocket. It's not like we're in a country riddled with unexploded ordnance or anything. Every EOD is needed. His unit was my only resort and only then because Haney owed me one."_

" _I'm not punishing you Jack," Hammond continued, looking, if Mac wasn't mistaken, more amused now than annoyed now. "If I recall you and I once had a long heart to heart on a long chopper ride where you lamented about your lonely childhood and how you'd always wanted a little brother."_

" _No," Dalton shook his head. "No, sir, I most definitely did not say I wanted a little brother."_

" _Maybe it was a Golden Retriever." Hammond grinned, slapping Dalton on the back. "Either way, Angus here looks like he'll fit the bill. Consider it my early birthday present to you, my old friend."_

" _My birthday is months away," Dalton whined. "And I liked the Colt M45 you gave me last year."_

" _I don't care," Hammond thrust a finger in Jack's chest, reverting to his earlier authority and dour demeanor. "He's your responsibility. I mean it, Jack, from this point on. Watch his back, so he can do the job we need him to do. The Army's going to be downright pissy if we bring back their best EOD genius, prodigy wrapped in a tarp and if he's ventilated, well I'm guessing he's not going to be of much use to us either no matter how smart he is. Talk about a waste of good whiskey and Cubans. His life is in your hands. Angus MacGyver is now your priority mission. Are we clear, Captain?"_

" _Crystal," Jack droned but then seemed to think better of it. He stood straighter. "Yes, sir, Major, we're clear." Dalton gave Mac another disdainful look. "I'll keep the kid in one freaking piece."_

" _Good, I'll also expect you to prep him on our first mission." Hammond turned to look at Mac. "Welcome to The Unit, Kid. We'll head out at 0600."_

 _Hammond and the other operator left, leaving Mac alone with Dalton, who continued to glare at him as if Mac had asked to come just to rain on his parade. For once Mac decided it was worth breaking his hard and fast rule to set a few things straight with Captain Jack Dalton._

" _Look, I'm about as happy to be here as you and your team seem to be about having me here." Mac took a step closer to Dalton. "Just so we're clear. I'm not a kid, and I'm no one's pet. I'm way past the point of needing some big brother to watch over me. I can handle myself just fine."_

" _How old are you?" Dalton asked._

" _Old enough," Mac growled. "But not as ancient as you."_

 _Dalton cocked a brow, folded his arms over his chest, but said nothing. Mac continued on._

" _I graduated top in my class from MIT and from Fort Lee, Virginia. I was trained by the best EOD the Army's ever turned out, and I was his prize student. I am a prodigy. Some go as far as calling me a genius. They aren't exactly wrong. If you got me for some cheap ass whiskey and a box of chocolates, I'd say you scored yourself a hell of a deal, Dalton. I'm the one who should be fucking offended that Haynes turned me over for peanuts. Major Hammond should be giving you an accommodation instead of making you look like an idiot in front of your buddy McCoy, who chauffeured me here."_

 _When Mac finished, Dalton took a step into his space, so they stood toe to toe. Mac refused to blink, keeping his gaze locked on the man before him, who although was only slightly taller than Mac probably outweighed him by 75 pounds of pure muscle._

 _Mac had a moment when he rethought his tactic. Dalton was most likely highly trained in the art of hand to hand combat, something Mac was not exactly well-versed in, though he'd been told he had a hell of a right cross. Mac would peg Dalton as a sniper. He had the swag. Probably cold-blooded and quite possibly a budding sociopath. Mac's initial assessment is what make Jack's next move so surprising._

 _He laughed. And not a menacing laugh packed to the brim with the promise of doom, as Hammond's earlier one had been, but a real joy filled laugh. Dalton didn't throw a punch at Mac, or deliver a furious dressing down which Mac probably deserved since he'd just totally disrespected an officer. Instead he offered Mac a shit-eating grin, and a low whistle._

" _Well, damn, brother, I expected a kid named Angus to have one hell of a pair." Dalton stuck out a hand. "Glad you didn't disappoint, MacGyver. With balls that size, are you sure you're not from the great Lone Star State of Texas?"_

" _California," Mac replied, warily. "The Golden State."_

 _Jack waved the answer away. "I won't hold that against you."_

 _Mac studied the hand for a moment, unsure if he should take it, in case it was some sort of reuse to draw him closer for some tactical maneuver. One more look at the stupid grin and the friendly brown eyes that kind of reminded Mac of his beloved dog Archimedes and he decided to take a chance._

" _You can call me, Mac."_

" _I'm Captain Dalton." Jack gripped Mac's hand giving it a firm shake. "But my closest friends call me Jack. And I have a feeling you and I are going to be very good friends, Mac."_

 _Mac wasn't so sure, but he was willing to bet things with Jack_ _Dalton and The Unit would not be one bit boring._


	6. Chapter 6

Sheltered

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: Here we are, finally at the end. Thank you all so much for all the kind reviews. It was so much fun writing a multi-chapter but I may stick to missing scenes for a while after the length of time I spent with this story. Again, thanks to those who took the time to comment and favorite this piece. I hope there are many more episodes to write about in the future.

RcJ

"So Jack basically landed you as a partner for some whiskey, Cuban cigars and chocolate?"

Bozer's question asked with complete incredulity had Mac refocusing on the present, letting go of the memory that had only been the beginning of a new path Mac never quite imagined taking. He'd been right, though. His life had never been boring after Jack Dalton entered the picture.

"He swears it was the best trade he ever made." Mac forced his gaze from his partner's still lack face to grin at Bozer. "Jack still sends the Major, now _General_ Perseus Hammond a bottle of Jack Daniels, some Cubans and a box of the best Belgium chocolate every year on his birthday, Jack's birthday, not Hammond's."

Bozer laughed. "That sounds like Jack."

"Yeah." Mac swallowed hard. "It's just like Jack."

"But that doesn't explain the whole Guns and Roses shade throwing earlier. I want the scoop on this secret code."

"Haven't you heard enough stories for one day?" Mac looked at his wrist, forgetting he'd had his watch taken when he was prepped for surgery. It had to be well into the early morning hours. He looked over his shoulder surprised the hateful nurse hadn't come looking for him.

"It's not like you have other pressing matters to attend. We both know you're not leaving this room until Jack wakes up."

"That doesn't mean you have to stay." Mac jutted his chin to the door. "Go stretch your legs. You've been here a while. At least get some food, man. Check on Riley."

"If I go, do I get a rain check on the story?" Bozer stood, giving a wide yawn. "I'm still considering the screenplay on you guys."

"Sure," Mac said, though he'd find another way to distract Bozer when he returned. Some things Mac still wanted to keep to himself. He especially didn't want to watch them acted out in one of Bozer's short films, although Jack was convinced their lives would play like a Bruce Willis thriller.

"Can I bring you something back?" Bozer stopped by Mac's chair, looking hesitant to leave. "A box of paper clips maybe?"

Mac shook his head, but then reconsidered. If he gave Bozer a task, it would make it easier for his friend to justify leaving. "Maybe some Sprite to settle my stomach so we don't have a repeat of the Exorcist episode."

Bozer clapped Mac on the shoulder, flashing his trademark grin. "I can do that."

Mac felt the room fold in on itself as Bozer left. The respirator seemed to grow louder in his friend's wake and Mac increased the pressure on Jack's hand.

"Guns and Roses sucks, Jack," Mac whispered, hoping for any kind of reaction.

Jack had started the 'last word' game on that first mission Mac ran with The Unit. He said it was a way to let Mac know he was covering him, even when Mac couldn't see Jack. Mac at first thought it was mostly because Jack liked to hear the sound of his own voice and just wanted to wag his tongue over the channel they shared, but Jack was true to his word. Every so often, even when Mac was deep in concentration in defusing a device, Jack would throw out some kind of gauntlet, a challenge to see who could outdo the other. The winner was the one who got the last word on whatever subject before the mission was up. Topics could run the range from hottest Bond Girl, to best pizza topping compilation, to their latest, the best rock album. Over the years they'd covered just about everything.

As annoying as Mac had found the game at first, he'd come to depend on it, especially in some of their more precarious jobs. It gave Mac something to focus on other than the immediate danger around him, the responsibility of all those counting on him to clear a path. Jack had seemed to understand what Mac needed even when Mac didn't realize it himself. Jack made Mac's physical security a priority, but he'd also been determined to make Mac feel as safe as possible, in a place where death loomed around every corner. It was simple. Jack wanted to make sure Mac knew he was not alone.

"Now would be the time for some of that reassurance, big guy."

This hiss of the machines was the only response. Jack's stillness and silence became as insidious as quick sand that Mac kept slipping further in as the hours passed. Even when Bozer returned with Riley and Thornton in tow, Mac found it harder to maintain his grip. Sensing his precarious position his friends took turns staying with him, attempting to draw him out with food that Mac only picked at and conversation he barely followed. Even the bowl of paperclips Bozer borrowed from the front desk failed to interest Mac.

Bozer read the sports pages to Jack. Riley kept Die Hard on loop on her lap top. Thornton did her part by working her magic to make a way for Mac to stay at Jack's side against medical advice, although it didn't seem to help Jack's condition, nor did it do any favors for Mac's mental state. It was on the second day that their apprehension became smothering.

Mac could no longer take them watching him, watching Jack. It had only gotten worse after Jack's doctor had thought Jack strong enough to remove his patient from the respirator. Everyone, including Mac, expected some instantaneous awakening on Jack's part. Assured by the fact that if Jack was capable of breathing on his own, then he would soon regain consciousness. That was not the case.

Jack remained unresponsive, and that concerned not only his doctors, but Mac, and the rest of the team. Mac could sense their anxiety and worry, their impatience building on his, threatening to topple them all. He asked them to leave for a while, made them promise to go out together, to have dinner and not in shifts as they had been doing. Mac asked for some time alone, and possibly in not the nicest manner. After much resistance they agreed, sparing Mac from literally kicking them out.

Mac had been surprised that when left to his own devices he'd done what his body hadn't allowed for the past twenty four hours. He slept. Not in the recliner that one of the nurses who had taken pity on him had moved into the private ICU room Thornton had scored for Jack, but in the hardback chair Bozer had been using.

Mac had pulled it close to the bed, lowering the rails so he could rest his head on his folded arms for a moment while maintaining some kind of contact with Jack, his hand resting over his partner's. He hoped to close his eyes long enough to allow the pain medicine he'd reluctantly agreed to earlier to take the edge off the unrelenting ache in his leg, maybe relieving the headache he'd been plagued with as well.

Sleep had come swiftly and unexpected, but the touch that woke him over an hour later was even more of a jolt. A weight rested on his head and then someone ruffled his hair. When Mac jerked awake, opening his eyes to glare at whomever had interrupted the first real rest he'd had, Jack was watching him.

"Hey, Kiddo."

"Jack." Mac pushed himself up, blinking to make sure he wasn't dreaming. He was relieved to find they were still in the hospital room, and not Mac's old bedroom.

"No one ever told you that sleeping like that will put a crick in your neck?" Jack's voice was weak, hoarse, but absolute music to Mac's ears. He looked pale, and drawn, but had managed a half grin for Mac's benefit no doubt.

"You're awake."

Jack lifted a brow. "The look on your face and the fact you're holding my hand like some girl tells me that wasn't something the doctors were counting on?"

Mac grinned. "What do doctors know?"

"Not a lot about Jack Dalton if they thought I was checking out." Jack looked around. "Where…"

"We're home," Mac reassured. "Everyone made it back. Me, you, and Riley."

"The mission…" Jack's gaze locked on Mac once more. "You were hit."

"Not as bad as you." Mac longed to talk to his partner about his theories on said mission and why it had gone so disastrously but there would be time for that later. All that mattered was that Jack was awake.

"Your leg." Jack didn't lift his head, but he tried to turn it to see Mac's lower half.

"My leg is fine." Mac glanced to his leg, noting Jack still looked unsure. "Would the doctors have released me to sit in this miserable chair if I wasn't okay? A little rehab and I'll be running circles around you in no time."

"Considering I don't think I can lift my head, let along sit up by myself that's not much to brag about, brother." Jack looked at the I.V. in his hand, to the monitor beside his bed. "How bad was it?"

"Bad enough. You've been out for over two days." Mac tried to keep the emotion in his voice in check. He forced another grin but was certain it came out more like a grimace if the ache in his chest was any indication. "But nothing a lot of R&R won't fix."

"We have been talking about taking a vacation." Jack arched a brow. "I guess skiing is out for a while."

"I should get the doctor," Mac tried to carefully push himself up, reaching for the call button that would bring one of the nurses, but Jack tightened his grip on Mac's hand.

"Wait, Mac..."

"What is it?" Mac hesitated. "Are you in pain?"

"Just give me a minute, okay."

Mac sat back down, recognizing the momentary panic in Jack's gaze. It was disorienting to wake up in a strange place, to a situation you couldn't quite reconcile because although you'd been present the entire time, you'd also been completely unaware for the majority of whatever you'd been enduring. The drugs didn't help. It was hard for the average Joe but for someone with Jack's training, to be out of control, was terrifying. Mac's own experience with waking up alone a few days before was all too fresh in his mind.

"I'm here," Mac tried for comforting, repeating the words he usually heard from Jack. "You're safe. And I promise, pretty much in one piece."

"Good to hear." Jack's mouth twitched at Mac's bumbling attempt at reassurance. "You really need to brush up on your pep talk there, Bud."

"Forgive me, but I'm usually on the receiving end of this whole routine." Mac didn't like to be hurt, but over the last forty-eight hours he'd come to believe it was better than being the one left waiting.

"Don't remind me," Jack rumbled. He gripped Mac's hand once more and then let go.

Mac breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that Jack was finally back on safe ground. "It's harder than it looks, the whole bed side vigil thing."

"That why you look like you haven't slept or eaten in a week?"

Mac shrugged. "Worry takes a toll on a guy I guess."

"Tell me something I don't know." Jack bumped his hand against Mac's. "I once had a full head of brown hair before you came along."

When Mac didn't fire back with a quick response on how he wasn't to blame for Jack's receding hair-line, he felt Jack's fingers wrap around his wrist, give a gentle squeeze. "Stay with me."

"I thought you were going to die." Jack's familiar command had a lump lodging in the back of Mac's throat, threatening to choke him. He didn't understand the sudden chill that raced up his spine causing his hand to shake. His body seemed hell bent on betraying him. A wash of hot tears flooded his eyes. Mac blinked hard to hold them back, cursing the pain medicine and his weariness which had obviously worn away at his hard fought defenses. Words tumbled out of their own accord. "I didn't expect the sound of the ventilator…And then you were so freaking still and you wouldn't wake up, and I couldn't stop thinking about my mom and how it was the same and…"

"Hey," Jack's fingers tightened. Mac was almost afraid to look down for fear of finding a bloody smear, proof that he was in yet another dream and in reality Jack was not coming back. "Look at me."

"I'm sorry," Mac stammered, ashamed he was somehow falling apart like some rookie kid when Jack was the one who needed him to be strong. He quickly wiped a hand over his face, trying once more to get up and call for a nurse. "I really should let them know you're awake."

"Dude, cut it out." Jack's voice took on some of its usual strength. He tugged on Mac's arm, forcing him to sit back down. "Just take it easy. I can go a little bit longer without being poked and prodded. You're the one I'm worried about."

"I'm okay, Jack. I told you I was fine." Even Mac realized he sounded anything but.

"Where the hell are Bozer and Riley?" Jack looked around again, as if he wanted someone to blame for the obvious piss poor state of his partner.

"I might have asked them to leave." Mac shook his head, cursing the fact he couldn't quite seem to rein in his emotions, to force Pandora back in her box. He angrily swiped at another tear that had dared to dart down his cheek. "I might have insisted on it."

"Why the hell did you do that?"

"I wanted to be alone."

Jack sighed. "Kid, that's the last thing you needed."

"What I needed, Jack, was for you not to get shot!" The anger surprised Mac. He was yelling at his partner who'd until five minutes before had been unconscious. It was ridiculous and the last thing he wanted to do, yet he couldn't quite stop. "What I needed was for you not to be such a selfless jerk."

"I hear that," Jack replied, nonplussed. "It sucks, I get it."

"You don't get it, Jack," Mac said wearily. He pulled from the weak hold Jack still had on him and ran both hands through his hair. "I don't want your death on my conscience any more than you want mine. It might not kill me, but it will wreck me. And I'm not sure if that's not worse."

"What do you want me to say, brother?" Jack asked sincerely. "You want me to promise that I won't die?"

For a moment Mac considered it. Protecting himself with what they both knew was not possible. But Jack would do it. He would promise, he would swear an outright lie, to offer whatever shelter he could for Mac. Just like he'd always done whether it be with a sniper's rifle from hundreds of yards away or with a stupid game over a com channel.

Mac could feel the intensity of Jack's gaze, as if they were both back on the roof in Berlin and Jack was reaching out for all he was worth trying his best to convince Mac his grip was true, that he'd pull him up if he'd only let go and trust him.

Jack's intentions were honorable, and Mac couldn't sully the bond they had with dishonesty. He thought of Bozer and how despite his motives, Mac had taken something away from their friendship by not allowing the truth to breathe in the space between them. Bozer was smart enough to realize that even though the reality was not what he expected and maybe not what he wanted at all, the lie was much worse. Cheap. The shelter it offered was an illusion. Smoke and mirrors. The truth and trust was the only real refuge any of them had. And the truth was, Jack Dalton was not invincible. He was not, nor would he ever be, no matter what Bozer conjured in the lab, bulletproof.

"Just promise me you'll always do your best to come back. That you'll fight, even if I'm not in your line of sight. You'll know I'm counting on you to keep breathing, wherever I am."

"Dude, that's part of my priority mission. Who else is going to watch your back?" Jack looked around the empty room as if to make his point. "Or kick your ass when you need it."

Mac snorted. "Apparently General Hammond was right when he said you were the man for the job."

"Most hazardous assignment the bastard ever doled out." Jack grinned. "Birthday present my ass."

"You said it was the best trade you ever made?" Mac reminded, the oppressive fear he'd been living with the last forty-eight hours giving way beneath their banter, like a looming shadow vanquished by light.

"You know I'm a man who stands by the spirit of his words."

Mac rolled his eyes. "Oh, I know."

"Speaking of words, anything else you want to get off your chest." Jack gestured to the room once more. "I'm a captive audience, and I'm pretty sure my ears are the only things that are still in top form at the moment."

"There is one more thing before I get the doctor," Mac said.

Jack gave him a thoughtful nod. "Okay."

"Guns and Roses doesn't suck. Welcome to the Jungle alone earns you points." Mac grinned, determined if just this once to get the final say. He'd thought about it that day of the mission, ran through albums as he searched for the flash drive in the oilman's office, sure to outdo Jack when they made it back. He'd come up with one he thought both fitting and ironic. A sentiment Jack couldn't and wouldn't argue with. And it was actually a great album. "But I say Dire Straits-Brothers in Arms has them beat."

Jack shook his head. "Damn, Dude, how can I argue with that?"

"You can't," Mac said.

"Then I guess you win," Jack conceded.

And Mac knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he most definitely had.

RcJ-Until the next time.


End file.
